Human Folly Does Not Impede The Turning

Death Is Simple. Life Is Messy. Give Me Life, The More Complicated The Better.

I Show Up In My Writing Room At Approximately 10 A.m. Every Morning Without Fail. Sometimes My Muse Sees Fit To Join Me There And Sometimes She Doesn't, But She Always Knows Where I'll Be. She Doesn't Need To Go Hunting In The Taverns Or On The Beach Or Drag The Boulevard Looking For Me.

A Child's Mind Is Its Living Room; It's Is Going To Be Residing There For The Rest Of Its Earthly Existence.

It Is What It Is. You Are What You It. There Are No Mistakes.

There's Birth, There's Death, And In Between There's Maintenance.